Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SUNSET BALCONIES, by THOMAS WALSH


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

SUNSET BALCONIES, by                    
First Line: For me no winter twilight falls
Last Line: That memory treasures of her face.
Alternate Author Name(s): Gill, Roderick; Strange, Garrett
Subject(s): Evening; Sunset; Twilight


For me no winter twilight falls
But brings a dream of gold,
Since well I know their dear white walls
Are gleaming as of old;
I know that down arcaded square
And narrow street they still are there
Dolores, Pilar, Mercedes,
Reclining in the balconies.

Mercedes, who belies the name
Of her sweet patroness renowned
As Queen of Mercies, shrined in flame,
At Barcelona crowned;
And Pilar, little face of rose,
Whose Virgin on the pillar glows
At Saragossa; there they rest,
Their dark eyes golden with the west.

Though the seven swords of silver press,
In high Granada's shrine
Her velvet-mantled patroness
Of Mother-Grief divine,
Dolores only smiles to scan
The sunset on her spangled fan,
Whose sparkle lights again the grace
That memory treasures of her face.





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